


Winner, Winner

by cathrheas



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Asphyxiation, F/F, Sparring, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: Catherine beats Byleth in a spar. Her tactics may have been a little underhanded.
Relationships: Catherine/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Winner, Winner

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on [Twitter](twitter.com/cathrheas)!

Byleth had really expected a tad more decorum, or at least composure, from servants of the Church. She’d had high standards from the students, but still had reason to believe they’d need her guidance; she hadn’t really considered having to pay so much mind to the antics of her coworkers. Between Alois’ awful jokes, Hanneman’s pestering about her Crest, and Manuela’s...everything, Byleth was really starting to wonder what the archbishop’s hiring process entailed.

Catherine made her wonder even more.

Catherine had been even more skeptical than Seteth of Byleth’s place in the Church, although she seemed to have a different reason. With the way Catherine was acting, she might have been paying Byleth more attention than Rhea was, but Byleth didn’t want to provoke her any more than she (unintentionally) already had.

While she wouldn’t point out Catherine’s faulty logic, there _were_ a few other concerns that she’d want to bring up. Mostly, she had a few objections with Catherine’s habit of following her around—or, at least, being at the exact same location as Byleth at the exact same time with startling frequency. Moreover, Catherine seemed to have...a rather cruel sense of humor. 

Byleth was willing to get over the wooden sword being thrown at her, because, sure, it was relatively harmless compared to a lot of things she’d seen on the battlefield, but Catherine didn’t have the tact to stop there. There was always a little joke whenever she was talking, about drawing her sword against Byleth, taking a jab at her.

Despite knowing that Catherine wouldn’t stop until she was scolded by a superior or got bored, Byleth didn’t say anything. It must have been a knight thing, she decided. Mercenaries and knights were similar in a way, but there might’ve been a culture difference that Byleth didn’t know about. Sure, Catherine’s teasing seemed a bit _targeted,_ but Byleth didn’t want to run to Lady Rhea to complain. She’d seem weak, for starters, and if Catherine ended up getting in trouble, she might have just been proving Catherine right: Lady Rhea favored her.

So, Byleth ignored Catherine as best as she could. Some things, like the sword, were a bit harder to ignore, though. Catherine rarely got physical like that, but it also seemed like things were escalating...

Maybe Byleth should have expected what happened next.

When Catherine invited her to the training grounds for a late-evening spar, she went with a bit of optimism in mind. Maybe if she won, Catherine would leave her alone. She seemed to be the type of person who was impressed by shows of strength. Byleth had seen that kind of thing happen among mercenaries, where egos clashed in battles. Byleth didn’t particularly enjoy that, but she also didn’t enjoy having training swords hurled at her.

Upon Byleth’s arrival, Catherine didn’t bat an eye. She had that same sneaky smile on her face, just a bit cocky. Forgoing a greeting, Catherine said, “Hand-to-hand combat. Me and you.”

“...What? You don’t want to—”

“Test your swordsmanship? Nah. I’ve seen enough of that with your fancy new sword.” Byleth’s hand went to the Sword of the Creator instinctively. She wondered if Catherine was upset about her receiving the sword from Rhea, too. “But, hey, no matter how great your blade is, a one-trick pony is no use to Lady Rhea. So, let’s do something a little different to test your mettle.”

Catherine punched the air a bit, bouncing on her feet excitedly. Byleth exhaled through her nose. She didn’t want Catherine to get a rise out of her, especially not before a fight, but—one-trick pony? That was a bit mean...

“Alright.” Byleth looked around for any equipment laying around, laying down her sword and her jacket. “Are there any gauntlets nearby?”

“Gauntlets? For what?”

“You—you surely don’t intend to fist-fight me with your bare hands?”

Catherine suddenly stilled, raising an eyebrow. Still, her smirk didn’t disappear. “No, I do. Unless you’re calling it quits?”

“No, it’s just...a little...” _I can’t call it barbaric, now, can I?_ “Strange.”

“Weren’t you a merc? ‘Strange’ should be your normal. People were fist-fighting way before blacksmiths were forging blades, kid. There’s no excuse. If you’re afraid, just say so,” Catherine sing-songed. 

Byleth looked down at her hands, cracked her knuckles out of habit. Catherine hummed, accepting that as a challenge. “Let’s not get too out of hand,” Byleth tried to reason. “If someone walks in, they might think we’re actually fighting...”

“You can tap out whenever you want. I’m not gonna hit you if you’re crying about it, or anything.”

That was...a little reassuring, at least. Byleth still couldn’t pick out Catherine’s attitude, though; was she really so frustrated by Byleth, or was she just a plain sadist? Byleth wasn’t sure which she’d prefer, either. She didn’t like the idea of being Catherine’s personal plaything, but if Catherine was like that towards _everyone,_ it would just cause problems for everybody else...

“Alright. I’m ready,” Byleth said, getting into position. Curling her hands—smaller than Catherine’s, she couldn’t help thinking—in such a way wasn’t foreign to her, but she was used to wrapping them around the hilt of a blade instead.

“Took you long enough.”

Byleth couldn’t even begin to think of a response before Catherine surged forward with a swing. Thankfully, her physical response was much faster than her verbal, and she was ready to duck backwards before coming back with a strong counter-hit to Catherine’s shoulder. Catherine flinched, but just barely. Byleth had been thinking about it ever since Catherine challenged her to a spar, but in some ways, she felt outmatched. Catherine may not have had more skill, or even experience, but she had a larger build to make up for it.

She was a heavy hitter, Byleth noticed; it might have been easier to counter her with speed. Byleth went on the defensive, shuffling away from Catherine’s blows and getting in hits when she could. To her surprise, though, Catherine wasn’t at all slow despite being a bit bulkier—she eased up on her heavy swings and began to mirror Byleth’s tactics. Before Byleth knew it, they were in a sort of dance, less of the brutal boxing match than Byleth had expected in the beginning.

Catherine had begun to sweat a bit. Her brown skin looked perfect, Byleth thought briefly, against the setting sun. She couldn’t say that, of course, and really, she had no room to be thinking about it, either. But when she was looking _up_ at Catherine—and she was, due to the height difference—it was hard not to notice how tantalizing she looked when there were little droplets sliding down the side of her neck. It was hard not to notice that Catherine wasn’t bragging for nothing; she really _was_ muscular, and sturdy, which must have come as a result of hard work that Byleth wouldn’t have minded seeing for herself.

Catherine must have been keeping a close eye on her. It was incredibly obvious when Byleth became distracted, and even more obvious when Catherine noticed. She grinned, almost chuckled to herself, then made a mad dash at Byleth, returning to a heavy punch that she must have expected to serve as a finisher. Byleth got herself together just in time to respond with a close dodge and a tackle. 

In normal circumstances, Byleth wasn’t sure she’d have ever been able to pin Thunder Catherine, but Catherine’s balance was always slightly off from her straight-forward fighting style. Byleth kept her legs on either side of Catherine to keep her down, but Catherine seemed to have yielded anyway, looking up at Byleth with a confused tilt of the head.

“Huh! Here I thought you’d lost your focus. Was that a trick?”

“...Of a sort,” Byleth said, because that was far easier than explaining why she’d actually been distracted. 

“Whatever that means.” Catherine frowned, and...well, that was a lot different from the Catherine that Byleth was used to seeing. She seemed a bit upset at losing, but Byleth also couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad. It felt good to take a win in a spar against Catherine, after all of the harassment and bragging. 

Maybe, with that victory, it’d stop. “So, it’s my win, right?”

“Nope! We’re not done.”

“Wh-what?”

Byleth saw quickly that Catherine’s hands were still free, but her reaction time wasn’t as short as it had been before, after feeling like she’d won. Catherine’s hands darted upward. Rather than sending a punch Byleth’s way, they went to Byleth’s neck, getting a decent grip. Byleth whimpered, an unexpected sound, yet Catherine was undeterred, using her new advantage to throw Byleth off of her and reverse their positions.

Even when she got on top of Byleth, laughing to herself, her hands didn’t move. “See? Not done,” Catherine said. Her grip had loosened a bit, so—so why did it feel like Byleth couldn’t breathe? Why did it feel like the pressure coming from Catherine’s palms, her thumbs, was enough to make Byleth see stars? Why did the feeling only grow more intense when she saw Catherine’s expression, as full of herself as ever?

Byleth thought that she might have been dying. Then again, she hadn’t expected dying to feel so good.

“Catherine, I-I yield,” Byleth said. Her voice cracked, and sounded incredibly light from what she thought might be a lack of oxygen, but her words came through clearly.

Catherine, true to her word, immediately lifted her hands, brows furrowed. “Woah, woah, what’s wrong? You could breathe, right? I wasn’t even squeezing that hard.”

“I...” Byleth inhaled, and—no, it still felt like she couldn’t breathe. She was dizzy, and...had the training grounds been that hot the whole time, or had her body temperature just spiked for no reason? “I’m, um...”

“Look, I wasn’t going to seriously kill you, or anything. You didn’t think that, did you? It was a joke. Maybe in bad taste, in hindsight, but—”

“No, I just...I don’t know. Something happened, I’m...feeling a bit weird.”

Catherine snorted. “Oh boy, Professor. Don’t tell me you’re into this kind of thing?”

_Oh_. Is that what that was? Arousal? Byleth took another look at Catherine, not having to worry about being distracted in the midst of battle. Catherine was very imposing, Byleth noticed, even with that concerned expression on her face. She was _handsome,_ yet still _beautiful_ in a way. There was something about her pretty face combined with a solid stature that made her alluring; even more alluring when Byleth felt like she was running out of breath and everything looked a little distorted.

“...I-I might be,” Byleth admitted.

“Wait. You’re, uh, messing with me, right? Good one. You almost got me.”

Byleth couldn’t help but notice that Catherine hadn’t gotten off of Byleth’s lower body, and her hands were planted in the ground by Byleth’s head. She was _close,_ close everywhere, and Byleth wanted those hands just a _little_ closer.

“I’m not messing with you,” Byleth said. She didn’t feel embarrassment often, but Catherine was experienced in drawing that out of people, it seemed. Even if it was an accident. “I don’t really know, I...your hands just felt nice. A-around my neck. It made me feel...”

Byleth trailed off, exhaling. Catherine was incredulous. Byleth had expected the building tension with Catherine to end in many ways, but she hadn’t imagined it’d end like that, with her laying on the ground and trying to figure out why Catherine had turned her on so much. 

The surprise on Catherine’s face didn’t last long. She narrowed her eyes a bit, appraising Byleth. “Here I was, just trying to trip you up a bit...didn’t think you’d end up liking it, but I guess we could work with this.” Byleth’s mind wasn’t able to keep up. What did Catherine mean by that? Work with what? “Y’know, this is a little disappointing. I thought you must’ve been hiding something great for Lady Rhea to take a liking to you, but I bested you in a fight that easy?”

“Y-you didn’t! I had won, you just—”

“Now, now. Let’s be honest,” Catherine said. Her voice sounded the same as always, teasing and conceited, but it brought a pang of longing to Byleth’s lower abdomen, rather than the usual sting of annoyance. The growing feeling only worsened when Catherine sat up a bit, bringing her hands to Byleth’s neck. That time, she squeezed, hard enough to make Byleth’s breath cut out for just a moment but not quite hard enough to bruise, and Byleth moaned as her breathless lungs allowed her. “I managed to get on top of you, right? And you _yielded,_ right? Sounds like my win.”

“I only...I only yielded because—”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Professor. You want me to do it again, right? Just admit that you lost, and I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Byleth didn’t want to admit defeat, not after having to listen to Catherine be a nuisance for so long. Catherine had been determined to make Byleth seem like she had nothing to prove her worth. Truth be told, Byleth had proved her right by allowing herself to be defeated, especially by a tactic that shouldn’t have affected her the way it did. And Catherine, with her arms stretched out to rest her hands around Byleth’s neck, looked so much _stronger._

Was it really the choking that made Byleth lose, or was Catherine really just better than her?

“Okay. I...I lost,” Byleth said.

Catherine’s hands sank in deeper to Byleth’s skin, but not enough to take her breath; just enough to make her heart pound again. “Good girl.” Catherine clearly meant to be degrading, but Byleth’s body didn’t react as if it were offended. Her upper body dragged a bit across the dirt, trying to lift her lower half up into Catherine. “Pushy! I _did_ say I’d do whatever you wanted me to, though. Guess I have to play fair.”

Byleth, sounding quite the mess, feebly tried to speak before stumbling over her words. She tried again, and managed to say, “Harder.”

For once, Catherine obeyed without a snarky remark, her hands tightening around Byleth’s throat with no hesitation. Byleth pushed her hips into Catherine again, and Catherine hummed. “Can’t choke you out with both hands if I’m touching you, now, can I? Tell me what you want.”

Byleth’s hand went up to Catherine’s wrist, but Catherine didn’t see it as a sign of a struggle. Byleth was trying to hold her there, trying to keep that galloping sensation in her chest, the rush of water in her ears; but at the same time, she needed more. “Just—one hand, here,” Byleth said, turned on even by the sound of her own strangled voice. “And t-touch me with the other.”

Again, Byleth felt air, sharp and cold, flowing back into her. Catherine had moved both of her hands to undo Byleth’s shorts and yank them down her legs, and Byleth was breathing heavily as she did, trying in vain to lift her shaking legs and help Catherine undress her. Then one hand was back at Byleth’s neck, the other feeling up Byleth’s slit with calloused fingers. 

“You’re a quick study, Professor,” Catherine said, an amused yet awed expression on her face. Her hair was sticking to her cheeks from her sweat, but it began to fall down as she hovered over Byleth. “I wonder if I could finish you off without touching you at all down here.”

“N-no,” Byleth croaked. 

“No? Is that what you said? Can’t quite hear you.” Catherine’s hand was so tight around Byleth’s neck that she couldn’t even nod. Catherine must have understood her anyway; one of those rough fingers pushed itself inside of Byleth, getting covered in her slick in the process. Byleth hadn’t realized how wet she’d gotten until then, and Catherine was willing to use it to her advantage, adding another finger seconds after the first. Byleth wasn’t sure what was making her react so strongly to Catherine; was it the lack of oxygen making her go mad, or was it just because someone else was touching her? She also couldn’t deny how attractive Catherine looked when she was poised above her like that, putting the muscles of her arms on full display.

Byleth couldn’t stand thinking about the why for too long. She couldn’t think about anything, with Catherine’s dual assault on her throat and her pussy. Her fingers were quick but steady, not stopping once she worked up to a good rhythm; the hand on Byleth’s neck, however, tensed and released in unpredictable intervals. Byleth knew that Catherine couldn’t choke her for too long, lest she fall unconscious, but that didn’t stop her from wanting it. Every time Catherine let up for a moment so that Byleth could breathe, Byleth would dig her nails into Catherine’s wrist until she clamped down again.

It was a rolling sensation, an alternating tension and release. Catherine’s fingers always felt better, much more stimulating, when she was struggling for breath. All of her instincts told her to panic at the inability to breathe, but the panic translated into what could only be described as euphoria. Catherine was careful not to go too far, to give Byleth space to take a few gasping breaths. Byleth hadn’t expected that sort of caution from her. If anything, she didn’t _want_ that kind of caution. She liked knowing that Catherine was able to overpower her, that Catherine was so much stronger than her, that she was powerless to stop Catherine short of begging her.

Catherine seemed to know it, too, smiling down at Byleth every time she heard a pitchy struggle for air. Byleth shut her eyes and watched the stars dance behind her eyelids for a bit, with the image of Catherine's face still firmly planted in her mind. Even with her eyes closed, she couldn't escape Catherine's arrogance.

"You never stood a chance against me," Catherine bragged. Was Byleth completely delusional, or did her hand tighten up as she said those words? "You were weak from the very beginning, huh?"

How could Byleth argue, when Catherine had rendered her helpless so easily? Maybe Catherine had had the right to tease her for as long as she did. She was _weak,_ and Catherine was so much bigger, so much _stronger;_ how could Byleth ever have expected to live up to that? Byleth wanted to reply, tell Catherine how right she was, but Catherine wasn't letting up. The squeeze-and-release pattern was replaced by a steady, firm grip, and Byleth opened her eyes to stare up at the clouds with tear-brimmed eyes. Catherine was far from inexperienced, it seemed. She was dexterous enough to keep cruel pressure on Byleth's clit while her fingers continued to work. Byleth could feel her nipples hardening under her shirt, and silently wished Catherine had a hand or two more, just to touch her there. 

Her lips parted to speak just as the heat between her legs intensified. Her heart started to race faster, but she couldn't let the pent-up energy out through a breath. It kept getting hotter, until she felt swollen and full. It was only when Catherine finally let her inhale that she burst, crying out Catherine's name as soon as she was able. She loved the sound of her own broken voice, undone by a lack of air and the fingers inside of her. She looked at Catherine again, only to find that the sly smile on Catherine’s face had faded, replaced with what looked like pure arousal. 

“You look good like this,” she panted, as if she were the one who’d been suffocated, her hand still idling at Byleth’s neck. Byleth realized her lips were tingling when Catherine leaned down and kissed her; the sensation was entirely different from what she normally might have felt from a kiss. She was trying to catch her breath, as her vision and hearing slowly balanced themselves out, all while Catherine was trying to coax her mouth open.

The sun had fully set, making Byleth wonder just how long Catherine had been on top of her. In the back of her head, she was also wondering how long she could convince her to stay, but she prayed that was delirium talking, and not some hidden desire.

Byleth didn’t have to contend with it much longer. Catherine, despite being obviously turned on, lifted herself off of Byleth and dusted her clothes off with her hands. “You might want to get yourself clothed, Professor. Wouldn’t be a good look if someone walked in on you like this.”

Byleth frowned at the hypocrisy, but did as she was told, pulling up her underwear and her shorts. She felt suddenly naked without her jacket, so she plucked it from the dirt and pulled it around her shoulders—even still, she felt bare under Catherine’s gaze. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what to say...

“Thank you,” she attempted. Catherine raised her eyebrow. “For the spar. And...”

“Say no more. It was my pleasure. Truly. You confirmed a few suspicions I had, after all,” Catherine said. Byleth didn’t fully understand the meaning of her words, but she somehow felt like there was an insult lying beneath them. Why, then, did Byleth feel so stirred up by them? “If you ever want to spar again, you know where to find me.”

Chances were, Catherine would find Byleth first. But after what had just happened, Byleth didn’t consider seeking out Catherine...completely unfathomable. Again, Byleth hoped that train of thought was merely a product of a post-orgasm high. “Sure. Maybe we can have a rematch. Under fairer conditions.”

“I’d say today was pretty fair.” Catherine stretched her arms, then folded them behind her head. She wasn’t intentionally showing off the muscles of her upper arms, but Byleth’s eyes drifted to them so quickly that it _felt_ like it was on purpose. “I’d be happy to show you again if you think it was a fluke. But, a word of advice, Professor...let off some steam before you show up, if you know what I mean. Let’s think with our heads next time, alright?”


End file.
